


With shadows as with solid things

by wefewwehappyfew



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Angst and recovery from psychological abuse and mourning, Because Logan left a whole world of possibilities to be tapped into, Bringing characters from the original works into the show, Creepiness (But this is Penny Dreadful we are talking about), F/M, Graphic violence shall happen later, also the PD universe needed Lil ray of Sunshine Elizabeth Lavenza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2018-08-31 04:48:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8564650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wefewwehappyfew/pseuds/wefewwehappyfew
Summary: The day Elizabeth Lavenza was brought to the Frankenstein household, she could not imagine that her life would change forever.





	1. November, 1872

**1\. November, 1872**

Elisabetta does not like England.

  
It is cold, and dreary and it doesn’t seem to change when they leave for the country. But she says nothing.

  
She knows that if she says something her father will cut her words with a cold reply or maybe not even deign to speak to her.

  
If Mama had been here, things would be different.

  
But she wasn’t. She had been sick and she was no longer with them and Elisabetta misses her terribly.

  
She misses her kindness towards everyone. It even made Papa softer than what he is now. Now he is cruel, and mean, and Elisabetta feels as if she is a burden to him. But they are going to visit Uncle George, and Elisabetta will meet her cousins and maybe things will be better then.

  
Maybe Papa will forget how angry he is. Maybe things will return to normal.

  
The carriage stops and Elisabetta peaks a bit through the window, and sees a tall man with a boy and many servants.

  
But she has to stop when she hears her father clear his throat.

  
“ _Non mi fati vergognare._ ” he says, before the door opens and he gets out.

  
Then it is her time, and she manages with his help. She will be a good little girl and will not ashame him.

  
But she cannot help to look at the boy who is by her uncle’s side. That has to be her cousin Victor. He seems sad, as if he doesn’t want to be here.

  
But she would do her best to cheer him up. He just needed a friend, just like what happened to her. They would be friends, she knew that.

  
She looks at the front again, and waits as her father embraces Uncle George. They both look like those statues in the church back at home, tall, and thin, and sad. They talk for what seems ages, but when her father introduces her, Uncle George seems to change his expression. It turns kinder, though there is something in his eyes that makes her think that he is still sad.

  
“She looks so much like Fanny…” he says to himself, probably not knowing that she heard him.

  
Still, she cannot say a thing, she cannot embarrass her papa. So, she waits until her uncle speaks.

  
“ _Io sono tuo zio, Elisabetta_ ” he says, his English accent still managing to come through the italian he speaks, and his voice breaking a little.

  
But that is not what surprises her the most. No, that has to be the moment when her uncle embraces her close.

  
“Thank you, uncle George.” She whispers, embracing him back and giving him a peck to the cheek.

  
He then takes her hand and they take together the few steps towards Victor. He is taller than her, and seems rather awkward. Maybe she should not hug him. Maybe she’ll wait to see what he does.

  
“Elisabetta, this is your cousin Victor” Her uncle explains, and then looks at Victor. “Victor, I think you had something for Elisabetta, didn’t you?”

  
Victor nods and offers her a small bouquet of flowers.

  
Taking it in her hands, Elisabetta smiles, feeling her cheeks warm. She does not remember the last time she had a present as nice as this.

  
“Why don’t you go and show her the house, Victor? Uncle Rinaldo and I have some matters to discuss.”

  
Victor nods, silently, and then offers Elisabetta his hand as Uncle George goes back to Papa. They enter the house, and go to an opposite direction to that of the adults.  
Victor is still awfully silent, and Elisabetta cannot help but wonder what did she do wrong. He cannot hate her already, can he?

  
“W-where are we going?” she asks, with a little squeak in her voice.

  
He stops and looks at her, confused. “I thought you would like to see your room.”

  
“But you won’t leave me there alone, will you?”

  
He looks at her in silence for a moment, but not in the way Papa looks at her when she admits she is afraid. No, there is no contempt in his eyes, but curiosity instead.

  
“I won’t. I promise you.”

  
It’s silly, but she wants to hug him. But she does not want him angry, to think that she might be a silly child like Papa says.

  
So she simply says “Thank you.”

  
Victor nods, and Elisabetta could have sworn she just saw him smiling a bit. She likes him already.

  
They resume their walking and after that, and Elisabetta takes her time to look around to all the portraits that decorate the corridors, wondering about all those people. She would have to ask Victor, or Uncle George about them later during supper.

  
They stop before a door. It looks huge, but then again all doors look huge to her. ( _Mama used to say that it would change with time. That Elisabetta would grow tall and see the world in a different way_ )

  
Victor manages to open the door, and holds it for her.

  
“You’ll like it, I think.” he says, as he makes way for her. “Papa said you would.”

  
As she steps inside, she looks around and her gaze stops at another portrait. It’s of a lady. She is pretty and she looks really familiar, because she looks back at Elisabetta with kindness. And then she realises.

  
“ _Mamma!_ ” She exclaims, running at the portrait to look at it closer. Getting almost on the tip of her toes, she manages to press a little kiss to the frame.  
When she turns, Victor is looking at her, almost frozen.

  
“Why are you crying?” he asks

  
“I’m not crying” she replies, confused until she touches her cheek. Why is she crying? She isn’t sad. She is glad to have her mama back, even if it is in a picture.  
“You miss her.” Victor says, and Elisabetta has to nod. Because it’s the truth and, well, Papa is not here. She can say it without making him angry.

  
But she misses her mama. And it hurts. Papa and the others don’t think she even notices because she is little. But she is not little. She is four already and she notices things. And the lack of them.

  
“I miss my mama too.” Victor confesses, and Elisabetta feels a bit more sad for him. “But soon I won’t have to miss her. Because she’ll be back here with me. And maybe yours too could be back if I do things well.”

  
Sadness gives way to confusion.“What do you mean?”

  
“I am going to bring them back.”

  
Elisabetta cannot help a giggle. He had to be kidding. The idea was nice but it was impossible. Mama and Aunt Caroline were with God now.

  
“You cannot do that, you silly!” She says, amused at the idea.

  
But he does not laugh, he just looks down.

  
“Perhaps you are right.” he says, and he seems sad.

  
The giggles stop and she feels bad again. Was he being truly serious? Maybe he was not playing jokes with her. Or maybe this still hurt him and thinking he could bring them back made it hurt less.

  
Either way, she approaches him and hugs him, because she doesn’t want him to feel sad.

  
“Thank you, Victor. It was very nice of you to do so.”

  
She looks up and Victor seems still, and silent again. After a long moment, he hugs her back.

  
And this is the time when she makes herself the promise that she would make sure Victor would always be fine. He was her friend now, after all, and friends took care of friends.

  
After the hug ends, Victor looks at her for a moment before he asks.

  
“Shall we go see the rest of the house?”

  
And Elisabetta nods. So he takes her to all of the rooms, even his so she can know where he sleeps if some night she is scared.  But, as they go downstairs, they see her Papa and Uncle George by the door, arguing. The adults look back for a second and Papa says nothing.

Elisabetta says nothing either, even if she is slowly understanding what is about to happen and she wants to cry. For once, her Papa looks down, as if he was ashamed of himself. But he says nothing as he crosses the treshold. Not even goodbye.

  
Victor looks at her, worried, and then back to his father, who approaches them.

  
“Elisabetta, your papa had to go on some business. I promise you don’t…”

  
“He’s not coming back” she replies, surprisingly calm as she releases Victor’s hand and goes back upstairs. It takes her some effort but she manages to remember the way back to her room.

  
And it’s only when she is back inside, with the only company of her mother’s picture, where neither Victor nor Uncle George can see her, that she allows herself to finally cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- One of the things that I felt Penny Dreadful had a lot of potential for, was bringing more characters from the original sources into this world. A character that I particularly wanted to explore was Elizabeth Lavenza from Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein", and how things would change for her in this new environment.  
> \- Also, a thing that made me really mad/intrigued from the original novel was the relationship between Elizabeth and her father, here named Rinaldo. What could truly possess him to abandon his child? And thus, this chapter to start the fic.  
> \- Apologies for any potential misuse of the Italian language, but I wanted to make a lil homage to Elizabeth's roots here, by using the italian form of her name and having her father and her uncle both speak to her in Italian at first. (Btw what her father says is "Do not ashame me." and what her uncle says is "I am your uncle.")  
> \- At last but not least, the title comes from the end of the Canto XXI of Purgatory from Dante's Divine Comedy:  
> “Now you know how much my love for you  
> burns deep in me  
> when I forget about our emptiness,  
> and deal with shadows as with solid things.”


	2. June, 1883

**2\. June, 1883**

Victor will return from school today, and Elizabeth is specially busy fussing over everything that needs to be prepared.

She wants him to feel at home now more than ever, to remember that here, and not London, is where he belongs. Perhaps it is because she misses him something awful. The house is never the same without him, at least for her, and even if she has friends of her own now, they are not him.

The only one who could come any closer to that was Justine. She had come to town two years ago with her family and there had been something in her sweet disposition that resonated instantly with Elizabeth, so they became friends the very moment they met.

She always managed to invite her to the estate for as long as she could, and Uncle George, always eager to please her (and this still surprised her to this day), allowed this.

“You should calm down, Elizabeth” she says as she sees Elizabeth inspecting the whole of the living room to make sure there is not a mote of dust in sight. “I frankly doubt he will ever notice that, he’ll just be happy to be back.“

Elizabeth stops for a moment. Justine is right, she should stop even if it was just for a second. It was just an old habit that she could not get rid of no matter how much she tried. Everything had to be perfect and nothing ever seemed so.

Nothing she ever did seemed enough, even when people reassured her to the contrary.

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth smiles at Justine. "You are right.” She says. “I shouldn’t get so nervous about these things.”

Justine approaches her and takes her hands, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Everything will be fine, as it always is.” She reminds Elizabeth. “You have managed this house and this family almost since you were a child. Don’t fret, Elizabeth.”

“I won’t.” she nods “I promise.”

The sound of footsteps that Elizabeth quickly identifies as Uncle George’s makes clear that they have to get ready. Making sure for a last time that everything is in its place, Elizabeth takes Justine’s hand and they both get out of the living room.

Uncle George greets them at the stairs with a smile. “I see you girls are ready too.”

“Yes, we are, sir.” Justine nods with another smile.

“Shall we go fetch Victor at the station, then?” Elizabeth asks, a bit too eager, but blushing as both Uncle George and Justine look at each other with a knowing gaze.

“We shall” Uncle George nods. “I think Martins shall probably have the carriage ready.”

“And if it isn’t much of a bother…” Justine asks

“Of course we can make a stop at town, Justine.” Uncle George added. “I am sure that you would very much like to spend some time with your family.”

Elizabeth understands the need too. The Moritzs were kind people, and they did not complain about her monopolising their daughter’s time. But she should spend time with them too. Elizabeth more than anyone knows that.

Besides, in a certain way, she has a family of her own too now with Victor and Uncle George. Even if Victor spent most of the year away at school, she still had his letters that she treasured as dearly as the little time they could spend together.

And as for Uncle George, he had proven to be the complete opposite of what Elizabeth had known with her father. He was tremendously kind, and supportive, and proud of every achievement both Victor and Elizabeth managed.

The trip is short, even with the stop at the town and the insistence of Herr Moritz for both Elizabeth and Uncle George to come visit them for a bit. After that, and the promise of another visit, Justine and Elizabeth promise to see each other soon and keep in touch in the meanwhile.

“Say hello to Victor from me.” Justine says before the carriage starts again.

“I will, do not worry!” Elizabeth replies as she waves goodbye.

They arrive almost in time to see the train stop at the station, but wait until almost all the passengers are out to finally see Victor with his things, and it takes all restraint Elizabeth has to not run towards him and hug him and smooch his cheeks like she used to do as a child.

But when he approaches them and hugs her close, everything seems right in the world again.

“Hello, you.” he whispers to her ear

“Hello, you” she says in return before she presses a kiss to his cheek.

It’s strange, but yes, she feels calmer with him around. Even as he talks to Uncle George she cannot help to look at Victor as if he were the only person in the whole of the station.

She is woken up to reality as Martins helps Victor with his luggage, and follows them outside to the carriage. The trip feels again tremendously short and by the time they arrive, each of them has to get ready for dinner.

Elizabeth chooses the dress she thinks he would like her the most in. Nothing excessively fancy, and it even makes her look somewhat pretty.

"You look beautiful, milady." Martha, her maid, says. "I'm sure Milord and Master Victor will be pleased to see you like this tonight."

Elizabeth feels the warmth rush to her cheeks at Martha's words. "Do you think so? Truly?"

"They would have to be blind to not notice." Martha smiles. "And if they don't, I hope you allow me to say that I know of quite a few boys that would kneel at your feet to declare their love for you."

Elizabeth cannot help a giggle. The idea of her having anyone at her feet declaring their love for her was incredibly silly. (Although, if Victor was the one, that image would turn from silly to lovely. But it was not like she was going to admit this.)

"We'll see." she says, smiling at Martha. "Still, thank you."

Martha nods as Elizabeth leaves her room in direction to the dining room. There, she finds Victor and Uncle George already in quite an animated conversation.

"Elizabeth!" Uncle George smiles at her. "Victor has some excellent news."

Even if in the deep of her heart she knew it would not be, she really hopes that the news mean that he is staying with them after the summer.

"And what might those news be, Victor?"

"I've been admitted to the medical school I told you about in the last letter." Victor explains, barely able to contain his happiness. "And one of its most important professors has expressed interest in tutoring me and my work."

Elizabeth can feel her heart sinking at every word, and yet manages to keep the most pleasant face she can. He looks so happy, and she doesn't want to spoil this moment for him. It would be cruel to do so.

"Oh Victor, I'm so happy for you!" She even manages a smile for him.

Those things come naturally to her, even after all this time. To smile, to listen, to behave like a good girl should behave. Those things still run deep in her.

So she listens to Victor speak of how he received the news, of how he met that Doctor Moreau that will become his mentor. She listens to Uncle George noting that Moreau is a doctor of a great reputation whose discoveries are even mentioned in the papers now. She can even notice how proud he is of Victor.

"I only wish your mother could be here too, to see the fine man you have become." He says, and that turns to be the only moment when the three end up in complete silence.

Thankfully, it doesn't last long, and Elizabeth knows why. She's always known he is doing all this because of his mother. It was a dream, or so she thought, but sometimes the determination in his eyes made her doubt it.

The dinner ends and she says her good nights, leaving father and son to catch up on their matters, not without managing to get a promise from Victor that they would go for a walk together tomorrow.

She would make the best she could of their time together, but now she needs to be alone. Or as alone as someone can be here, because Martha has to take care of the dress and to prepare her for bed.

"They are blind." Martha mutters under her breath when Elizabeth tells her they didn't notice.

But then, what worries Elizabeth is not that, but Victor leaving again. It is selfish, but she wants him here. Here is safe, here no one can harm him. Here they are together.

But maybe that cannot be.

Martha undoes the laces of her corset and helps her out of her underwear and in her nightgown, gathering everything and putting things in order while muttering her quite negative opinion on men at the moment. But before she leaves, she says goodbye with the warmest of smiles.

And of course, Elizabeth finds, in the dark of her room, that she cannot sleep. So she ends sitting up, looking at the pale light that comes through the window.

So lost is she in her thoughts that she doesn't even notice when the door opens. She only notices when she feels him holding her hand.

"Hey" Victor says, softly

"Hey" she replies, gaze fixed on their hands.

"I've missed you." he confesses, and that makes her look up at him, surprised, with so many questions that end up choking on her throat before he continues. "I... I know you've not taken the news well. I mean, even I could see it..."

"Victor, I..." She starts, but he continues before she can say anything.

"... but I promise you, Elizabeth, I am not leaving you." he says "I am doing this so one day I can fulfill that promise I made you. But I will always return. We will always be together, in one way or another."

There's silence after that, as she tries her best to make sense of everything. But she cannot help a hopeful smile before something happens that makes her heart skip a bit.

Victor kisses her. It's short, almost like a peck, and she is sure he did not intend it to be a kiss on the lips, but it is a kiss. Her first kiss. And it makes her heart soar.

"I've missed you too, Victor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Justine Moritz had to appear, she just had to. And she will make further appearances in following chapters because Elizabeth and Justine's friendship in the book is the sweetest thing.  
> \- Dr Moreau, aka Victor's future mentor, is of course, the titular character from HG Wells' "The Island of Dr Moreau". And yes, this doesn't bode well for Victor, tbh.


	3. July, 1884

**3\. July, 1884**

Elizabeth stops by Victor’s door, seeing it half-open, and finds him asleep, his head on the desk and his hand still holding his pen.

She has never been one to pry on his notes and work. She always listens when he wants to explain something, but she never does anything beyond that.

( _That is his realm, in a certain way_ )

Still, there is a drawing that catches her attention, an arm, with a very detailed series of what she thinks are veins, and some notes by its side. She is sure Victor wrote them half-asleep already, as his writing is generally so clear…

Elizabeth only understands one word from it all: _Impulses_.

Maybe one day she’ll ask him. Maybe one day…

Victor stirrs and his hand touches hers. It takes a mere few seconds for him to wake up, almost in a bolt, and at least a minute for him to regain his breath.

“Elizabeth!” he finally manages to exclaim, clutching his chest in a way that scares her quite a bit

It is as if the Victor that returned to them was not the same as the one who left, and instead London had decided to give them an empty shell of his former self. Not just because of this incident, but because many other things.

Because of the secrets he had started to hide.

They both manage to regain composure quickly, and Elizabeth simply looks down.

“I’m sorry I startled you.” She manages to say, and starts to leave before she feels his hand holding hers.

He says nothing, he just looks at her with a sort of helplessness that makes her stop instantly, and hold his hand with both of hers before she kisses it.

“You and I are going for a walk now.” She suddenly decides, and when he is about to speak, she stops him, putting her finger over his lips. “No ifs, or buts, or negatives. You are resting. You are on holidays, and I am going to make sure you enjoy them.”

Even if she is not sure if this is going to work, it is still worth a try. She needs to get him out to breathe some fresh air, to remind him that there is life beyond his studies.

( _Not like she didn’t do that already but he seems to need it now more than he ever did._ )

Elizabeth stands up, releasing Victor’s hand, and goes to pick his jacket. He might need it if they spend a longer time than expected outside. He stands up, reluctantly, and does not say a word, but he follows her, downstairs, and outside.

What surprises her the most, is that he takes her hand again when they are alone again, not that far from the house. Elizabeth looks up at Victor, wondering what is in his mind. She should ask, but she is not sure how to do it.

And even he notices it, because the moment she looks down, he asks her:

“Is there something that worries you, Elizabeth?”

_You_ , she wants to say. _You make me worry. You are not the same._

But she says nothing, because he would deny it. He would tell her to not worry. That everything was fine and he did not understand why she was worrying so much.

She simply stops, and he does the same, before she embraces him close, like she did the first time they met. Listening to his heartbeat, as uneven as it is in this very moment due to the surprise of the hug, brings her a sort of peace she had long forgotten.

"Not now." she finally says, and smiles when he hugs her back.

Elizabeth looks up at Victor and notices that his expression seems to soften. That he seems, for the first time in a very long while, content.

He even presses a soft kiss to her brow, and she cannot help but notice that he now has to bend to do so.

"You are growing up something awful" she jokes, brow furrowed, and he cannot help a smile, kissing her brow again.

"And you are right, as always." he says, seemingly amused, but then again there is something in his tone that worries her.

She cups his cheek, looking up again at him. She truly wishes she wasn't. She wishes, instead, that she could spirit him away from London, and away from England, to some place where the ghosts of the past and the promises made did not chase either of them.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know." She says "Maybe I could find a way to go live with you in London."

There is something in Victor that seems to falter as he tries his very best to not avoid Elizabeth's gaze,even if he ends up doing so.

"I cannot let you do that." he says.

"Why?" she asks, not bothering to mask her worry anymore.

"Father needs you."

"You do too." She finally says "And he would understand. Maybe he would consider moving in too..."

"No."

The word is definite and it cuts like a knife.

Elizabeth lowers her hand and releases Victor from the hug, taking a step backwards.

"Why?"

The silence that comes between them is awfully heavy, and strangely oppressive given the fact that they are in the open air. But Elizabeth can feel it almost cracking her ribs and not allowing her to breathe.

Victor is not looking at her.

"You wouldn't understand." He finally manages to say, not moving his gaze from the ground.

Elizabeth wants to scream. _What in God's name has happened to him?_

But, for some reason she still does not understand, she doesn't.

Instead, she approaches him again, cupping his cheek and making him look at her.

"Then explain it to me." she says "Slowly, as you used to do when we both were children."

But she is only met with silence, and sadness in his eyes. She understands, then, that she will not get an answer from him on this matter. Not now. Probably never.

And yet, she will fight tooth and nail before she ever admits that the man before her is not the Victor she has known her whole life.

But not now. Now is not the time for fights.

"It is late," she says. "We should go back."

He nods and they turn, walking the path back home in complete silence. Their hands do not touch, nor do they look at each other, except for the moments where the other is not looking.

Tomorrow would be another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- This chapter was a last minute addition (what will be Chapter 4 was originally chapter 3) because I considered necessary to show the drift that is starting to form between Victor and Elizabeth. So yes, that means that Chapter 4 will also be up soon (after some changes). In the meanwhile, I hope you all enjoy the heartbreak.


	4. December, 1884

**4\. December, 1884**

Christmas is soon to come and Victor hasn’t written any letter as of yet.

Elizabeth knows this should not surprise her. When he returned for summer holidays, he seemed different. More silent than usual, and not even Elizabeth herself could break that silence.

_You wouldn’t understand_ , he would say.

Part of her wanted to scream at him. Of all the people he knew, she understood him best. Of all the people he knew, only she understood the sufferings he carried within the deep of his heart because she had suffered the same, even more.

They had shared every single secret, every fear, every hope, every dream.

But talking to him felt now like talking to a stranger.

And yet a part of her hoped that the Victor she knew would return. She missed him terribly.

She is lost in her thoughts of him while another observes her most intently.

Basil is more or less Victor’s age, an artist that Uncle George met in London and invited to come to the estate and paint portraits of the family and servants, among other things that he would want to paint.

And of course, she was among those things.

Justine had commented, not without some amusement, that even she could hear the painter’s heart skipping a beat when he saw Elizabeth.

Elizabeth herself had dismissed this as nonsense, only her friend’s attempts to cheer her spirits.

But then again, she realised that no matter where in the house she would go, they would both end up finding each other. And the way he looked at her… No one had ever looked at her in that way.

Not even Victor.

( _And that was what hurt the most_ )

Elizabeth cannot dare look at him in this very moment. Not without blushing. He is handsome, in the way of a young renaissance painter, or one of those romantic poets whose works Victor would read to her.

His hands are surprisingly clean for a man of his profession, with long fingers that move as nimbly with the charcoal as they do over the keys of a piano.

Suddenly, the thought of those hands undoing the laces of her gown while he whispers sweet nothings to her ear invades her mind, and she feels the heat reaching her cheeks at such inappropriate thoughts.

( _Or is it at the fact that it’s Basil, and **not** Victor, the one who occupies them? She doesn’t know. But it’s a sensation that seems to both please and bother her_.)

“One could say you’ve been eating roses, my lady.” he says, and she turns to him, and looks at him in silence, wide-eyed like a doe about to be struck.

“I-I beg you pardon?”

He looks down, as if suddenly ashamed of his comment. “Nothing, my lady. I am sorry.”

She blinks. Why is he sorry? She should be the one to apologise for her rudeness towards him. And yet…

And yet she says nothing. She approaches him and sits by his side, looking at the sketches he’s made, and she cannot help a smile. They were so beautiful, so… full of life. More than herself, if she was honest.

Victor had taught her how to draw, but the drawings they did were something quite academic, mostly directed to depict whatever they wanted in the most accurate fashion possible.

This was different.

“They are all lovely.” she says. “Far lovelier than the model, if I say so myself.”

“They are poor versions, specially when the original is here to compare.” he says, and they end up looking at each other in silence for a moment that seems to last forever until they end it abruptly, looking down at the sketches.

Elizabeth suddenly notices that their hands are touching. They are closer than what they should be.

This is not appropriate. She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be betraying Victor in this way.

Even if a small part of her, to which she usually did not pay attention to, thinks that perhaps he had betrayed her already. That he had abandoned her, like the man she once called Father did.

_“… We will always be together, in one way or another”_ he had told her a year ago, and repeated again the last time they saw each other, a vacant sadness in his eyes that made her still wonder many things . Had he lied? It seems so to Elizabeth, even if she will deny this to herself for as long as she breathes.

She stands up, and she manages to do this as smoothly as possible. She really does not want to worry Basil. She likes him enough to care about those matters.

“I-I should go solve certain matters downstairs.” She explains, trying to hide how flustered she is feeling.

He nods “Of course, my lady.”

She makes her way to the door and opens it, but she stops, pondering for a moment on something she wants to say to him.

“Basil, may I ask something of you?” She finally asks.

“Always, my lady.” He replies, tone hopeful.

“Please, do call me Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth” he cannot help a smile at that.

“Basil” she nods, a smile forming too in the corners of her lips as she leaves and closes the door behind her, her heart soaring in a way she did not expect.

She walks downstairs, to the kitchen, but the sound of steps towards her stop her, and she turns. It’s Uncle George, with a letter in his hands. He seems sad, even if he tries to hide it with a smile and he hands her the letter.

“You have a letter from Victor, my dear.” He says as she takes it.

“Is it good or bad news?”

“I don’t know.” He sighs, and continues his way upstairs “I simply do not know.”

The moment she is finally alone, Elizabeth opens the letter and starts to read.

“ _My dearest Elizabeth:_

_It is with a heavy heart that I write to you to inform you that I will not be able to return home for Christmas._

_My studies are going better than expected, and Doctor Moreau agreed that it would certainly be a shame if I were to make a stop, even one as short as this._

_If I write this to you, it is because I am sure you are the one who will understand my reasons. Even if I cannot explain any further, everything that I’ve always promised you is closer to coming true._

_Please, do send my best wishes for this Christmas to Father and Justine. I trust that, thanks to you, they will understand this decision too._

_As for me, I close this letter wishing you the merriest of Christmases, and all the happiness in this year to come._

_Yours sincerely,_  
_Victor._ ”

Elizabeth wants to scream, but no sound comes from her lips. Perhaps it is time to face the truth, after all, and understand that she will never be enough. Not for Mama to survive. Not for Papa to not leave her far away.

Not for Victor to stay.

Despite those words, that reminder of a promise that was turning into a worrying obsession, she knows that she will never come first for him. That the letter itself was simply the way of making her act as a middle man between him and the rest of the house, specially Uncle George.

Elizabeth wonders if Uncle George knew already. Even if he had not received any letter, a parent, specially a good one like Uncle George, has a sort of way of just knowing these things.

Whether he does or not, she doesn’t feel capable to face him, not yet. So when Martha comes upstairs, she stops her for a moment.

“Martha, I shall go solve some matters in the kitchen. In the meanwhile, please prepare another dress and the black coat. I shall go to the village to order some fabrics for the New Year’s dress and visit the Moritzs.”

From Martha’s expression, Elizabeth can see she senses there is something wrong. But she simply nods.

“Of course, milady.” she says, warmly. “Shall I tell Martins to prepare the small carriage?”

Pondering for a moment, Elizabeth finally says. “No, I’d rather go for a walk. The weather seems nice enough, don’t you think?”

“Yes, yes it does seem so.” Martha nods, unable to hide her worry. “But may I ask you a question, milady?”

“Of course.”

“Are you going to go alone?”

“I still haven’t thought of it.” Actually, she had. She had considered the idea of inviting Basil, but it would not be appropriate. She would get him something, though. “I will tell you when I return from the kitchen business.”

With a nod, they both continue their ways, Martha to the rooms, and Elizabeth to the kitchen.

There would be so much to do yet…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I was saving this for Christmas day but since I am not sure if I will be able to post anything then (due to the usual social commitments and all that jazz), I'm posting it now, so Happy Holidays to y'all.  
> \- Note: While he happens to share a name and a profession with the eponymous painter from "The Picture of Dorian Gray", this Basil is my own creation, I promise.  
> \- Also just saying that, maybe not in the next chapter, but we will soon get a glimpse of the many reasons why Victor doesn't want Elizabeth to come to London.


	5. April, 1885

**5\. April, 1885**

 

In a certain way, Victor was right.

This new year was proving to be an excellent source of happiness. Elizabeth had started to take art lessons with Basil, and this was bringing them quite close together. Her friendship with Justine was as strong as ever, and even Uncle George seemed to be cheery.

It seemed as if none of them ever thought of Victor anymore.

The truth was that there were moments when Elizabeth wondered. Moments when she would feel a little pang in her heart when she asked herself if Victor would be safe.

( _It didn't matter that he had not sent any letter since that last one._ )

But not now. It was not the time. She was in the town, enjoying a walk with Justine, with no other business to be had.

"Maybe you could consider a trip to Bath for the holidays." She explained. "I have heard it is quite a lovely place."

"I am not quite sure we will have time, what with the reforms in the house." Elizabeth replied

"But that is the best moment!" Justine exclaimed "I would loath to be around when the workers are repairing whatever has to be repaired. All that noise must be awful."

"Bath doesn't seem that quiet though."

"Still, it is not London." And Elizabeth had to nod at that. She hated London, and if she could avoid it, she would for as long as she lived.

Even if Victor was there.

( _A few months ago, the idea of him being there would have made the possibility of Elizabeth visiting London something less awful. But that was a few months ago._ )

"You are quite right." she had to admit. "Besides, I think we both need a change of air."

"And you could bring your painter too." Justine smirked and Elizabeth could not help a blush.

"He'd quite like the sights."

"And not only that."

"Justine!" Elizabeth exclaimed, wide-eyed. "That was highly inappropriate."

She would not admit that Justine was right, though. Even Elizabeth herself could see that Basil harboured feelings of the romantic kind towards her. And, even if she didn't want to admit it either, she was starting to feel in the same way towards him.

After all, who could blame her? It was nice feeling loved. To feel like she could come first for someone, as selfish as that feeling was.

"Besides" Justine continued, faking a dreamy tone "You could also help me find my very own Frederick Wenworth in Bath."

"You think so?" Elizabeth asked, quite amused.

As Justine had told her, her very first experience with the English language were Jane Austen's works, and obviously, her favourite was Persuasion, and every man she met was measured against the ideal of Captain Wenworth.

( _Suffice it to say, Justine found all of them sorely lacking_.)

"Of course!" she exclaimed. "Without a need of an amorous suitor for yourself, you could help your poor friend Justine in the search for her very own beloved. And you do know better than my parents which kind of man I would love to have as my husband..."

"We'll see" Elizabeth said. "After all, we don't even know yet if we will go or not."

"But your uncle will listen to you. He always does."

"Perhaps because I am the only one he has." she couldn't help adding, feeling slightly downcast at the thought.

"No news from Victor yet?" Justine asked, as if reading Elizabeth's thoughts.

"Still nothing."

"If I were you," Justine explained "I would not worry. It's not the first time he has done this. Might not even be the last."

"That if he ever returns."

Her heart was still divided on the matter. Again, most of the time, she hoped he didn't. After all, he was happy in London with his scientific pursuits ( _Knowing Victor, there were probably no pursuits of any other kind. She didn't mean this out any sort of jealousy. She meant it because Victor was Victor._ )

But then there were the moments of worry. Moments she did not want to think about, but she did, and they did hurt. She was learning to cut them short, thankfully.

"Well, that would be his loss, to be honest." Justine said as they stopped by a bookshop. "Shall we go inside and have a look?"

"It does sound like an excellent idea." Elizabeth smiled, and went to open the door.

Letting Justine inside first, she then followed her. Greeting Mr Harold, the owner, they then started to look around. While Justine set her sights on a copy of _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_ , Elizabeth's eyes drifted with nothing that truly interested her in sight, until she arrived to a double tome of Dante's _The Divine Comedy_.

Of course she had to take it for a look. It had not occured to her that a book that had been a staple of her parents' household could have had a translation in English, but there it was.

Her father, when her mother lived and he was happy and not the monster that mistreated Elizabeth and abandoned her, always told her that it was the most brilliant work ever produced by a son of Italy ( _Non importa s'erano fiorentino. Lui è anche nostro._ ) and that come the time, they would read it together.

But of course, that time never came.

Opening the tome dedicated to the Purgatory and Paradise, her eyes fell on a certain verse.

" _Thou art a shadow, and behold'st a shade._ "

Elizabeth couldn't help a small smile at that. A smile that stopped the bitterness and the melancholy that threatened to drown her.

( _How funny, how a mere verse can unlock what one has tried to keep locked away for years_.)

No. She would not let herself be a shadow. She was learning to not be one, and she would not stop.

"Elizabeth?" Justine asked, and Elizabeth looked at her. She was worried, that was obvious.

That was too, when Elizabeth realised that there were tears falling down her cheeks. Justine, ready as always, offered her her handkerchief. Elizabeth managed to dry her tears and regain composure quickly.

( _Old habits do die hard after all_ )

She even managed a smile as she returned the handkerchief.

"Thank you, Justine." She said "Have you found anything interesting?"

"Well, a few things, but I'm afraid I..."

"I'll pay them." Elizabeth said, and to her friend's surprise, she added. "It's the least I can do for such a good friend like you."

For once, Justine didn't know what to say, flustered and looking down. "I cannot..."

"I insist."

After a moment of silence, Justine finally looked at Elizabeth and smiled, trying to remain composed.

"Thank you so much, Elizabeth." She managed to say before she embraced her friend.

Embracing her back, Elizabeth smiled warmly at Justine. Truly, this was the least she could do for such a good friend that always managed to lift her spirits.

In the end, she decided to take the copy of _The Divine Comedy_ , and Justine took a copy of _North and South_ and another of _The Tenant of Wildfell Hall_. They both went to pay for their books and left together, talking about Justine's books, and with a sense of happiness invading them.

And as Elizabeth looked at Justine, she only hoped for something.

That the rest of the year could be as filled with joy as this simple moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Believe it or not, I am alive and so is this fic (yes I am not sorry about the pun/reference)  
> \- Took me a bit because, as what happened with previous chapters I was about to throw Elizabeth into more action but decided first for fleshing out a bit some things, specially her relationship with Justine. (BECAUSE FEMALE FRIENDSHIPS, SOMETHING SORELY NEEDED)  
> \- (Don't worry, we are going to see Victor in the next chapter)  
> \- The phrase Elizabeth recalls from her father means: "It does not matter if he was florentine. He is also ours." is a bit of a reference to several things: 1. The fact that Elizabeth and her father were from a completely different region of Italy (aka Milan) 2. The fact that Italy itself until a few years ago was not Italy per se but a bunch of regions. 3. My headcanon of Elizabeth's father as a very nationalistic Italian that sees Dante as a sort of symbol for everything Italian.  
> \- The quote from the Divine Comedy is from the same Canto that gave me the title of the fic, but from the first translation I could find in English, aka that of Henry Francis Cary.


	6. The Museum

**6.  The Museum.**

 

  
  
Elizabeth _hates_ London.  
  
She hates it something awful.  If there was a chance to wipe the entire city from the face of the Earth she would take that chance _without hesitation_.  
  
And yet she finds herself again in this dreadful city. Accompanying Basil to some art business, and with Justine accompanying her because of two very important reasons. The first being that a young unmarried woman shouldn't be travelling only in the company of a man. The second being that Justine was the only one who knew how to deal with her and the state of distress this city made her experience.  
  
"And this is supposedly the capital of the greatest empire on Earth?" She cannot help but ask, displeased at the noises, the smells and everything this city brought.  
  
"Capitals of empires are supposed to be huge places." Justine replies, the voice of reason "Rome was probably outrageously so at its time."  
  
Elizabeth bites her tongue because the first words that come to mind are again her father's. "Rome was order. Everything else that came after it, chaos."  
  
"Besides," Justine continues "not many places offer the many opportunities for the amusement of two young ladies such as you and I, Elizabeth. Not like London does."  
  
Elizabeth takes a deep breath. "I'll have to admit defeat on this one. But remember that we have to meet with Basil for dinner."  
  
"That we will." She promises. "But there is so much time until that."  
  
And she is right. Much time, and they use it well, visiting first the many wonders of the British Museum.  
  
For the first time, Elizabeth feels that London isn't that terrible of a city. After all, even if most of the artefacts that populate this museum could be considered spoils of war, they were lovely, and so far have made Elizabeth feel at peace. She wonders now not about the unsanitary conditions of the many inhabitants of London, but of the suffering of the wounded lioness of this ancient relief.  
  
"It's lovely, isn't it?" She asks Justine  
  
"And sad." Justine nods."They made it sad. Not like the others."  
  
“But Death is a sad matter.”  
  
Death was the cold hands and the glassy eyes of her mother before her father closed them forever.  Death was many questions left unanswered by a father that was not a father anymore. Death was the promise of Victor to bring both their mothers back.  
  
Death is  definitely no pleasant matter, and Elizabeth does not want to think anymore about it.  
  
So she turns, ready to find something else to admire, when she notices something. There is a man looking _at her_ , and she doesn’t avert her gaze as she should. He must be more or less the age of Uncle George, but he is tall, handsome, and rather athletic for what Elizabeth can gather. And even though he carries himself with effortless elegance, he looks at her with a sort of intensity that would make her _blush_ in any other situation.  
  
But she would never admit, not even to Justine, that this feels _good_. That this makes her feel a sort of power that she could not imagine she had. Because it is different than the love Basil has for her (and she wouldn’t trade that love for anything in the world, or so she thinks). It is different than what she deluded herself into thinking that Victor felt for her.This is the sort of thing that would make the priest gasp during confession.  
  
She breaks eye contact though, when Justine calls for her and they go admire some pottery and giggle at certain erotic scenes that many would argue shouldn’t be on display.  
  
“They were really strange, those ancient gents.” Justine decides “Decorating their crockery with such salacious scenes... My father would have a heart attack if he saw this!”  
  
“He won’t though.”  
  
“Thank goodness.”  
  
And they both smile as if they guard some deep secret between them before they leave the museum.  
  
Perhaps this was what Elizabeth needed. A place of rest in a city that she despised. A place that made her forget for a while why she despised that city as if those reasons were small papers burning in a small bonfire.  
  
She even smiles as Justine and her make her way through the streets.  
  
The day, after all, is still full of **possibilities**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- HEY LONG TIME NO SEE. Yes it fills me with shame that it took me so long to update but here we are. With a shorter chapter to get things going again because I definitely want to continue with this fic.  
> \- More Justine and Elizabeth time because of reasons. (Honestly there's no explanation needed beyond the fact that I love these two and so should you)  
> \- Btw no more long time jumps for a while since there are some things that need further developing. (Aka the relationship of Elizabeth and Basil, more Elizabeth and Justine stuff and Elizabeth with Uncle George in Victor's absence.) Yes that means we might not see Victor for longer than what I thought but trust me, it's for the better.  
> \- Or maybe we will? After all, the mysterious gentleman might be related in a certain way to Victor (not to Elizabeth though.)  
> \- And hopefully I'll be back sooner with more stuff and maybe appearances of more characters from the show.


End file.
